Refiner's Fire
by Song of Stillness
Summary: What happens to the Beast in the last crucial moments before the spell is broken? He embarks on a journey into a frightening, unknown world between life and death and fights for his right to live, finding out essential truths about himself, love and life.
1. Her eyes

**Refiner's Fire**

**Author's Note:** Inspired by something that Glen Kean (the guy who animated Disney's Beast) said about the transformation sequence: "_It's really about an inner, spiritual transformation that's taking place with the Beast..." _In this story, I explore the spiritual struggle that Beast goes through before he is 'reborn' into the prince.

o0o

**Chapter 1: Her eyes**

Her eyes. I can see them clearly in the gathering storm; bright, clear and unbearably beautiful. She came back to save me and yet I can't help but think of the bitter irony of her being here, looking at me like _that_, finally. Now, at the end of all things...

I've heard it said that when you're dying, your life flashes before your eyes, and for a moment in Belle's eyes, I can see my mother as she leans over me by my bedside, her soft hair falling on my face, her warmth my only memory of love...

Mother...Beautiful, Queenly, elegant but never happy. It was father that saw to that...

And I...? Who was I to argue against my father, my Sire and my King. On most days I could not even address him as Father... There were countless times I watched him covetously from afar, wishing for the attention he lavished on his accomplices and members of the royal court. His deep rejection and neglect bore testament towards his obvious hatred towards me and yet I still ached to be loved by him...

_Loved._

The one thing in this world I never knew except in getting exactly what I wanted, whenever I wanted from my devoted servants who I can only imagine stayed out of pity for the lonely, tempestuous child I became. And yet it was the one thing I yearned for more than anything in the world, even throughout the curse, the one thing that would fill me with such anger and pain that I would literally tear things apart.

And then _she_ came...

Her presence bringing an indiscernible lightness, something I didn't recognise at first because of the darkness I had lived in for so long... _hope_.

And it was as if a part of me, empty and unknown like an abandoned room was given life, given light, taught to breathe and I forgot who I was in the presence of such beauty.

For that is what she is..._my_ beauty, this beautiful girl who kneels beside me in the rain, trying so hard not to break down, trying so hard to be strong for me.

"You came back..." I manage to whisper with effort.

She nods her head, loose tendrils of hair falling across her face. And I reach up to touch her face, revelling in the softness of her skin, her warmth.

In those years of bitter resentment towards my parents for abandoning me, my father for taking his life and my mother for following shortly after, I did not stop to think, to observe the damage I was inflicting on my own heart, how I was suffering under such a combined bitter hatred. And after I was cursed, I completely lost my humanity... there was just so little of me left. On more than one occasion, my servants found me standing on broken glass in my own blood. It had only been because of them and the fact that I was too much of a coward that I lived... that I am still alive today. Just, barely...

But I cannot help but feel _different_ now, changed... Not perfect, but somehow I've survived being dragged through the flames of hardship without being consumed. Someone once told me that it is these hardships that make you stronger, more durable, determine who you are... I've been melted, moulded, taken-apart at the seams, painfully but surely...

Is that not enough?

Must I pay with my life as well?

I open my eyes to Belle's touch. I hear her audible gasp and feel her gentle hands on my face.

"Maybe it's better... it's better this way..." I make my mouth form words and I once more see my mother's face as she leans over me and whispers in my ear that everything will be alright, but this time I know the truth...

"Shhh don't talk like that. We're together now. Everything's going to be alright. You'll see..." I watch as Belle's eyes fill with sorrow and regret.

I am no longer that vulnerable child who cries for his mother and believes that she will take away his pain... I am an adult now, facing the unknown chasm of death, and knowing that I have never done a kindly or good thing in my life, apart from loving her, loving Belle with everything I am... Belle is crying softly now, and I marvel at her strength, her courage.

"At least I got to see you one last time..."

And as she smiles down on me, I realise that I have to tell her, I need to tell her that I love her before it's too late. Her face dips and blurs as if within a fog, and I hear her voice as if from a distance calling my name. I struggle from within that blackness.

"Belle... I..."

But I can't say it, the breath constricts in my lungs with painful effort.

_No. I need to say it. I need to say it. God, let me say it!_

She needs to know this. She _has_ to. Suddenly, it is the most important thing in my life. I scream out to the dark void.

_Enchantress, if you are there tell her I love her! Please...tell her... help her bear this... _

And the effort is too much, and I am slipping, slipping into a vast darkness that weighs me down and wraps its muddy tendrils around my soul.


	2. The hall of portraits

**Refiner's Fire**

**Chapter 2: The hall of portraits**

_Author's Note: I like this idea of being able to review your life through a series of paintings, or a tapestry or something like that... The idea itself is not a new one; I've read about it in different pieces of literature and stories and I thought it would be an interesting concept to explore what Beast felt looking back on his own life. _

o0o

I open my eyes to complete blackness, a solid, frightening blackness that presses down on me from all sides, chilling me to the bone. I know, without a doubt that I am utterly alone. I try to call out, but the darkness swallows up my voice and I lie still, my body shaking, echoing my words again and again to the malevolent darkness.

_I love you Belle, I love you... I love you; I love you more than life..._

More than anything...

Damn it!, damn it to hell! Why had I not opened my mouth to speak, to tell her how I felt? If I had, then maybe she... maybe...

I've had everything taken from me... My body, my sanity, my freedom...my life...

Must my one chance at love be taken to?

_Love_

The word seems to resonate within me and that's when I notice it...

The darkness begins to lighten, melding into a hazy grey, the bleakness of it all almost as terrifying as the darkness. Slowly, I focus on my surroundings and find I am in a vast room, with marble floors, mirrors and a high ceiling with a chandelier. It reminds me of my own ballroom, but a ghost of it, like an echo of the past, a picture frozen in time. It is like I'm viewing everything in shades of grey; blank, dull, lifeless. The silence is deafening and frightening and I can hear my heart beat like a trapped bird against my ribcage, my breathing loud in my ears.

_Where am I?_

A flash of red blurs past my vision and I look up, my mouth dry with fear as a figure in a red hood brushes past me and through the open doors. I follow on unsteady legs, my claws gently clipping the floor.

"Hello... can you tell me where I am...?"

My rough voice echoes in the dim silence, but when I turn the corner I see no-one, only an empty hall with a vast amount of framed pictures. I pass a shaking paw over my eyes, but the blurriness does not fade, nor the dismal shades of grey. Instead my eyes flick to the nearest portrait and I draw a sharp breath, my heart pounding, for it is a portrait of me.

My human self as a child, barely five years old. I recognise the dimples in my cheeks, the gap in my front tooth, my childish innocence. The colours are so bright, vibrant, alive against the drab grey of their surroundings. It is almost as if I can step right through. I lean closer, inhaling, expecting the scent of oil and turps but instead I smell autumn leaves, fresh-bread baking...then all of a sudden, I am caught up in a wave of memory...

Monday. A blustery, cold day. I had snuck off to the kitchen for a snack when my tooth had fallen out. It was such a random memory, so small, so insignificant in the grand scheme of things... but somehow important enough for a portrait in this strange hall...

Looking around more closely I spy another painting, a painting that could have been beautiful but is faded from neglect. I peer closer at the image within and see my family in our younger, happier years, before Father started his slow descent into depression and mother's spirit was broken... I recognise it as an actual painting that once hung on a wall in the castle, until I ripped it to pieces... In the painting my small hand rests on my father's knee and the corner of his mouth is slightly lifted, a sparkle in his eye.

"Christophe, don't wriggle so..." I can feel my mother's soft hand on my shoulder, "you'll spoil the portrait."

"But _how_ much longer Mama? I can't bear it!"

I can hear my father's laughter as clearly as if he stood beside me. He pats me on the head with rough affection.

I smile, warm from the memory of his affection when it dawns on me...

This is my life.

All captured moments,

the good and the bad,

captured forever in glossy real-life colours,

textures,

emotions...

I walk a little way further and come across a painting that is blurred and scratched and I nearly recoil upon seeing my father's face stare angrily back at me. The day comes back to me as fast as flame. A day I will never forget. I had overheard my parents arguing in the next room, their loud exclamations making my heart beat against my chest in fright.

"_Damn_ you Lynette, I will simply not hear another word... you make me out to be some kind of monster!"

"Well you are if you cannot even see that he exists!"

"The child is spoilt – he has everything he needs and more besides..."

"But not the one thing he wants..."

"And what is that?"

"You are afraid to love him Vincent, you are terrified..."

_Terrified_

And I stand immobile, those words echoing in my ears. Terrified.

Terrified.

Terrified echoing in my ears. They are terrified to love me. What's wrong with me? It's my fault. It must be. I must be unlovable...

Then I watch wide-eyed as father pushes mother away from him so hard that she trips and falls down the stairs...

I remember it as if it were yesterday...

Her body flew like a ragdoll through the air and landed crumpled on the bottom landing. Father looked on in horror, not understanding what had happened... The servants came to the rescue and I was too young to understand then what all that blood meant, but I now know that she had been carrying my unborn baby brother and had miscarried. It was also the first and only day I saw my father cry.

"It's a cruel, cursed world we are born into Christophe. Don't ever forget that..." And his eyes were puffy and red. And I never saw him again for he went out into the forest and took his own life... And I cannot help but think for the first time, unwillingly, that father was just as much of a victim as I was...

I wander aimlessly through the hall, the paintings calling to me, whispering memories into my ear, bringing with them certain scents and smells, the feel of the wind, making me re-live my life, re-live the hateful, cruel things I'd done. The day I broke one of my junior servant's arms for disobeying me, the impromptu fire where I destroyed most of the family heirlooms... the day I turned away the Enchantress...

And finally I come to a portrait which makes my heart leap. It is Belle. As I first saw her, and I marvel at the way she held herself, even then. I press trembling claws to the canvas and feel a rush of elation as I lean in and kiss the painted face, trying not to tear the fragile binding. I notice that after this portrait of Belle, the rest of the paintings seem to appear lighter, brighter, as if streaked with sunshine, as if her presence alone infused a visible ray of light in my life. I walk the rest of the way, watching those happy last few days with her play out before me and feel a deep sadness settle within me as the paintings come to an abrupt stop. I ache so much to be near her it is like a physical pain. What will she do? She must be so frightened. Will she stay with the servants... will she leave with her father...? Will they bury me first? And for a moment I can almost see Cogsworth writing a long and laborious speech, snapping at Lumiere over something as trivial as flowers and Mrs Potts sitting in a room, the tears streaming down her face, supervising the stitching of a royal burial cloth and I suddenly realise all the things that were left unsaid, all the people I did not get to say goodbye to... to thank, to hug one last time...

I turn, tears settling in my matted fur and I am all of a sudden confronted by the same cryptic figure in the red hood, the one that had brushed past me before. I cannot see the face as it is swathed deep in the shadows of the cloak, but a chill runs down my spine. The figure wordlessly beckons and I know without a doubt that it wants me to follow it, and I obey.


	3. Danse Macabre

**Refiner's Fire**

**Chapter 3: Danse Macabre**

_Author's Note: This is quite a dark chapter, which is why I changed the rating. There's quite a bit of symbolism but you can take it to mean almost anything. I was sort of inspired by figurative/surrealist artist Peter Booth and the ballroom scene in The Labyrinth for this chapter._

o0o

I feel as if I'm moving through some sort of mist or smoke that clouds the senses and sticks to my mind, and it is not until a set of double-doors appears before me that I realise I am being taken to the same room I arrived in. I stop for a moment, my heart aching, as a vivid memory comes to me of Belle leading me to the dance floor through ornate, golden doors.

The red-hooded figure beckons impatiently when I stop, shaking the vermillion folds of its cloak and extending a pale, slender hand. At first I am astonished by what looks like the delicate hand of a child and then as the hood slips back I recoil, horrified, as I look into the eyes of Death itself. Struggling, I try to tear from the thing's grasp, but the phantom child maintains a terrifyingly strong grip, and I am steered forcefully into the ballroom. The bleariness of the place is cold and dismal after the vividness of the hall with portraits and I startle as I feel the child slip something on my finger. I look down and see a black, glass ring, as cold as ice. The child pulls me down, fingernails digging into my arm and I give in, falling to my knees. The child presses cold lips to my cheek and raises those malevolent, squirming, death-filled eyes and smiles. I shudder, trying to tear the ring off, but it won't move.

_You are mine now..._

Death smiles wider as I struggle with the cursed ring and then disappears. I startle as seemingly out of nowhere, shadowy figures present themselves before me, adopting flesh and skin and clothes and faces, some faces which I know and recognise. I stand and watch as the room lightens; a pale, sickly light that feels somehow _wrong_. And then from out of no-where music starts playing, music that is at once both enchanting and eerie. I turn in the circle of lights as dry, papery figures clasp hands with partners and dance.

For a moment I am stunned and I turn in a circle, the lights blinding me.

When my vision becomes clear I glimpse a figure through the crowd, a form I know only too well...

"Mother!" I run after her and catch the end of her dress through the crowd, but she melts away into the sea of people and I realise with a pang that she probably wouldn't have recognised me anyway...

I stand still, confused and disorientated as the sea of dancers move around me. Wave upon wave, I am swept up into their eerily beautiful dancing; emaciated faces and wasted figures in swathes of pale finery. I crane my neck over the crowd and then immediately duck my head, my heart beating furiously against my chest as I see my father. When I was younger I had hated him so much I could have killed him...But now...? I tremble, clenching my paws tightly to my side, claws digging into my palm, feeling only regret and pain and a deep, deep sadness..

I see him looking at me again, this time with a spark of recognition, the blue eyes that I inherited from him piercing me to the core. All the many things left unsaid flicker in his troubled gaze, and seem to pass through me. He steps forward, opens his mouth to say something, and then closes it, his hand falling loose by his side.

He turns away.

I rush after him, the crowd of people parting before me like a sea.

"Father! Wait! Don't go... I'm sorry! I'm so sorry... please... don't go..."

But the ballroom extends and grows in size and with every step I take, I seem to get further and further away...

I stop to breathe, the black, glass ring weighing heavy on my finger. And watch from a distance as my mother, my father and our old servants, who would normally never speak to each other become united in this strange dance, twirling each other around ridiculously, chaotically. And slowly, gradually the dance changes pace, faster, faster and faster still. People crash into me as they go by, as if unable to stop the maddening beat. Spinning, whirling, frantic.

I whirl around trying to find a way out, but the door seems to have disappeared and the mirrored, glass walls are strong and unyeilding. Faces leer at me, mock me and I am dragged into the centre of it all, clasped against someone's body, twirled by another's hand. And I realise that I am not alone in my beastly form here... many creatures, deformed and monstrous, some worse than mine grin sickly at me, skeleton hands and faces, emaciated, degraded flesh, beasts of all kind of description, mixed amongst the wealthy and the rich, royalty, nobility, merchants, thieves and beggars. United, unified in this dance of death...

And then suddenly the figures get desperate, cruel, violent as they pull at me, shove me, near tear me to pieces, shrieks of laughter ringing in my ears;

"Ha!... did you think you'd get away?"

"Look what we have here..."

"Bastard."

"...ugly..."

"...hideous..."

"...you can't escape us now..."

"You deserve this..."

And I cry out as they attack me relentlessly, fingers biting into my flesh, claws scratching. I beg for mercy, but none comes... I cry for my parents, for my mother, for my father, but it is as if they cannot hear me, or don't want to... Everyone continues on oblivious, cold, uncaring to the pain and torture that I am made to face. And I sob, shaking, calling for _someone_ to come and save me as they jeer, whispering in my ears, laughing at me, tearing at me with sharp claws and teeth. And as I am made to face all my bitter past; my ugliness and hate and fear and pain, all heaped together and thrown at me in one entangled mesh I realise somewhere deep down that I have brought this upon myself...

And in that moment I _hate_ myself completely and utterly.

And suddenly, out of nowhere, I recall a gentle voice speaking to me, warm brown eyes and small hands that clasp my own.

"Why won't you tell me Beast...?"

"I don't want you to know..." I had whispered, feeling ashamed, the long sleeve of my embroidered shirt cuff falling from the edge of the table as I placed my head in my hands. She had looked at me then, eyes sad. "I may not know much about your past," she had said softly, touching my cheek, "but I do know that you should not be afraid to let go of your demons..."

_Let them go..._

Belle...

Her face, her eyes, her hands. The way she would pick up a book and read it, flicking through the pages with a look of utmost concentration on her face, the way she would listen to me attentively, talk with me about everything and anything, the way her eyes would blaze when she got angry, the attractive pink blush that would bloom on her cheeks. Her smile, her strength_, her goodness_...

The way she made me want to become a better person...

The way she changed me,

healed me...

And suddenly I notice that my tormentors are dispersing, slipping back into the shadows in the corners of the room, hissing, cursing, hands over their ears as if my memories of her are excruciatingly painful to them. They retreat slowly, slowly... until I am left alone in an island of light.

From the corner of my eye, I see the child Death and I am caught terrified by the look of fury on his face. He is carrying a black sceptre in his hand and as he brings it crashing down into the floor fire bursts out in streams of blood red and burnt sienna. The black, glass ring tightens like a vice around my finger and I bend over double in pain, watching as the shimmering blaze climbs higher, pulling the sea of people under it. Wave upon wave of flame engulfs the walls, the drab, grey place and the people are trapped between towering walls of flame. I cover my face with my hands, not having the strength to move as the flame draws nearer but then... instantly, I am met by that same debilitating darkness.

_Darkness..._

I am paralysed with fear as I imagine hands still on me, scabbed, rotting hands touching me with cool, bony fingers, clawing at my face, my body and I curl my broken body into the smallest shape I can manage.

And I fall... spiral through all time and memory,

Until I am caught,

upside down,

suspended,

within a warm cacoon of memory...

"Shhhh..." I turn and watch the night air whip around my mother's cape, my hand clasped safely in her warm one. She motions a finger to her lips and tries to smile, but her smile is sad. A soft halo of light surrounds her, obliterating the darkness and I am struck at the warm sense of peace and security it provides.

"Hold out your hand, dear one and I'll give you a candle..."

"What for Mama...?"

"So you can see where you're going."

"Where are we going Mama...?"

"To the Chapel, to light a candle for your father..."

I bite my lip and turn to her again, my brow furrowed and I watch the outline of the moon dance on her hood. And then she leans towards me, and I am struck at the pale, almost deathly pallor of her skin. "But you must _promise_ me Christophe that you will hold onto this candle. Don't let it go..."

And the surroundings change and merge, the darkness touching us with shivery fingers, and I am no longer a boy but a beast...

"Mother?" I question, as she takes my paw and leads me through the darkness. I marvel at the way she touches me gently without a hint of revulsion.

"Mother... are...are we still going to the Chapel to light a candle for Father...?"

She doesn't answer but keeps on walking, holding onto my arm as we walk through the thick, black darkness. I watch her and wonder at her tears.

"Mama," I say gently, "what's wrong...?"

She turns to me, ignoring my question. "Christophe... tell me what you see..."

I look around me and all of a sudden thousands upon thousands of tiny, sparkling lights seem to appear out of nowhere, suspended in the air and glistening in the darkness, like tiny, blazing suns, like little lanterns caught up in a black sea. She reaches out a hand and gently plucks one from mid-air that seems to have not quite joined the rest.

"Here..."

I gather up the tiny flame and it nestles contentedly into the centre of my palm and I am immediately struck by its incandescence, its brightness. It moves like a living thing and tendrils of light flow from it in waves that move and diperse like running water. I stare at it in awe.

"What is it?" I whisper.

She turns, tears streaming down her face.

"It is your soul..."

She kisses the edge of my palm.

_Don't let it go._

And I watch as my tiny flame, small yet achingly beautiful wavers in the wind. I try to shelter it with my paw but the wind is too strong. But then as I look at it, it seems to grow brighter, lighting the darkness around me. I reach out to touch it and it seems to absorb into my skin, an element of its own, a light that is living, breathing, organic. The vision of mother disappears... and so do the thousands of shimmering souls, but there is light all around me. I stare at it in wonder as it grows bigger and brighter until I am nearly consumed and then a glorious and terrifying voice resonates within me, a voice I recognise from that dreaded day long ago.

_Look up Christophe..._


	4. The Enchantress

**Refiner's Fire**

**Chapter 4: The Enchantress:**

_Author's Note: Well... we're nearing the end now of Christophe's journey, and this chapter's a lot more 'lighter' than the last. I don't know how much more torture I could have beared to put him through... In this chapter he meets the one who was both a curse and a blessing to his life and is given a special insight into his future. I especially enjoyed writing those bits =)_

_o0o_

_Look up Christophe..._

I stare into the light and shield my face as it almost blinds me and I can just make out the figure of the enchantress within the glowing, ethereal light. She holds out her hands and I come before her, falling at her feet, pressing my face to the hem of her flowing gown. She strokes my matted fur absent-mindedly and I sob, as I can't help but think of my mother.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I am so sorry..."

_I have already forgiven you Christophe... you must learn to forgive yourself._

"I wish I were never born..."

She looks at me almost sternly, her eyes bright. _Dear heart...Would you deny your parents the one hope and joy in their sad lives...? Would you willingly take away the only love Belle has ever known and let her live a life of misery with a man she does not love...? Or your servants...Would you condemn them to a life of poverty and suffering...? You cannot know how many changes you have brought on, how many lives you have touched... Just as Belle was a catalyst in your life... so are you a catalyst in theirs'..._

"But," I stutter. "I am no saint..."

_Indeed not Christophe, but what you are, is so much more..._ _Come... I have something to show you... _She smiles and takes my hand, and I notice for the first time that my surroundings are remarkably different. We are walking down an arched walkway made of quaint, elaborate woodwork, and through every opening and lattice edging pours forth golden sunlight. Looking out through the archway, I see gardens and misty, resplendent mountains... and in the distance a vast, blue sky that seems to stretch on forever...

We come to a room which is almost circular in appearance. _Go inside and look into the mirror Christophe..._ I enter the room, looking on the walls for an ornate frame, thinking of my own mirror with the border of roses that showed me the world. I look down and startle for a moment as the floor seems to disappear underneath me. It as if I'm standing in thin air and I watch the clouds as they move and swirl chaotically beneath me.

"Where is the mirror?" I whisper, distractedly as my hind paws seem to disappear into the whirling cloud mass.

I hear a peal of gentle laughter, and turn around to look for the enchantress but she is no-where to be seen.

_You are standing on it dearest..._

Again I look down and realise I am standing on glass, transparent and beautiful.

_This mirror tells only the truth. It reflects the inner-most desires of the soul. What you see here is a reflection of who you truly are..._

I stand still, trembling in awe, afraid that one of my heavy paws will smash right through. Slowly, I look into the glass, my heart beating hard and fast, hardly daring to believe it as the clouds disappear and my face merges into a smooth, _human_-looking one with clear blue eyes. I gasp, barely recognising myself. Time has changed between when I was a boy and now...

And then all of a sudden, the room opens up in front of me. I am standing, barefoot on wooden floors, wooden beams above, the scent of summer and flowers and floor varnish in the air.

"Christophe!" Belle comes towards me, arms outstretched and I am caught in the rhythm of her smile, the scent of her hair as it streams down her shoulder blades and down my arm as I catch her and pull her towards me...

"Belle..." I whisper incredulously.

She pulls back from me, a frown on her face. "Darling... why haven't you changed yet? I thought you said you were ready an hour ago!"

I can only stare at her dumbly, so much so that she laughs and kisses my cheek. "Well, don't be long love..."

The scene blurs

and then melds again, as I catch the glimpse of open sky and my faithful servants strutting about on the grass.

"No Lumiere, I most certainly said turn _left_ at the black stump, not right!"

"No _mon ami_, you said turn right! But lucky for you, my intuition is greater than your stupidity... because look - we are here at last..."

And I look up as Belle collapses beside me laughing, tears streaming down her cheeks, one hand on her gently protruding stomach, crimson and ochre leaves pinned in her hair in the shape of a star. She looks at me, eyes shining. "Just think of it Christophe... We'll be a family soon..."

"Ah, yes Master... Mademoiselle Belle," I hear Lumiere's voice float into hearing, "it has been an age since we have had little pattering feet about the castle...Why, such a thing would be _magnifique_!" Somewhere in the background, I hear Cogsworth's disgruntled hmmmph.

Again, re-shaping,

re-melting,

and I am standing in a room, facing a window which looks out onto the snowy lawns and the dark-lit sky. From behind me, I hear Mrs Pott's gentle scolding voice at the door, "Now come along Noel... come say goodnight to your Father..."

I turn in disbelief as a miniature version of myself; a child with my eyes and Belle's heart-shaped face comes running towards me.

"Papa... catch me!" And I hold my arms open as this beautiful child comes soaring towards me and I swing him up in the air, an unknown joy coursing through my veins. And I feel a burning in my throat, as I rest my cheek on the soft head. "Goodnight Noel..." I whisper.

I love you Papa...

_I love you_

And I watch through tears as the light fades around me, as the room grows darker, and the vision of happiness starts to break into fragments, like cracked glass. I watch as my son dissolves in my arms, light pouring through the gaps in his smile, his fingers, sparkling through his skin... as I cling onto him for dear life... I watch his brow wrinkle up in concern, the substance and matter of dreams flowing from him as he fades faster still...And I memorise his face, my heart aching as the world spins around me...

And then I am standing in a room, holding empty air with the night sky at my feet, emotion threatening to overwhelm me and I nearly break down.

"_Why?"_ I demand through gritted teeth, "Why did you show me all this just to take it away again! I don't understand... Is this not what you intended...?" I fall on my knees again in despair. "Why do you always seek to torment me so?"

_Why are you weeping Christophe?_

"I don't understand," I whisper. "I am _dead_, I am bound to Death now..." I lift my paw to show her the black, glass ring but my eyes widen in shock as there is no ring to be seen...

"But _how?_ I... don't..." I look around me, as if expecting the ring to be somewhere nearby.

The Enchantress smiles compassionately and opens her palms out in front of her. _I think you will find Christophe, that Death has no power over love..._

And as she comes to stand before me, an image comes to my mind of Belle weeping over my dead body on the cold, stone balcony. _The spell is broken Christophe... Time has been suspended,_

_reversed, __upended __because of love. _

_Love has found you and healed you..._

She looks at me with kind eyes, as I stand there, numb with shock and confusion.

_The world waits on love Christophe, it is humbled by love. It kneels before it in reverence._

And she leads me by the paw to another room, and I gasp as I see the same portraits that I had reviewed not that long ago, only this time, I watch as the hall of portraits expands and grows, no longer a dead end but walls full of new, white, glistening canvases yet to be painted on.

_What I allowed you to glimpse Christophe... was your future..._

I tremble, realising that one day... years from now, a portrait will appear on the walls of a little boy with copper bright hair and blue eyes.

_Come stand before me, redeemed one, for I am giving you back your life..._

I look up, my heart beating strangely within me, not able to speak, I am so filled with gratitude. And she smiles at me as if she understands, and as light as a summer wind, she presses her lips to my forehead and a strange sensation flows through me. Suddenly I find I am standing in the dark-lit room with the mirror and I look down in horror, as I feel the glass trembling, shaking beneath me! Before I can even move, the glass shatters, splinters into a thousand pieces and I am falling, faster than sound, faster than light. I open my mouth to scream but all of a sudden I am floating, suspended between heaven and earth.

_You are now a new creation now... old things have passed away... _

I hear her words resonate within my soul and the most overwhelming sensation of love and peace flow through me. I have never known such grace. I am forgiven, I am renewed... I am free...


	5. A new creation

**Refiner's Fire**

**Chapter 4: A new creation**

_Author's Note: With this chapter, we return once more to the movie's ending where we experience the beautiful and powerful transformation. It's the shortest chapter – but it's exciting - I always loved this part in the movie!_

_o0o_

Floating, falling through rhythms of sound, cadences of melodies, radiant pin-points of fire merging and entwining before my eyes... and a warmth, a warmth that spreads through my body like liquid light, pure, untainted, uninhibited...

I feel as if I've come undone at the edges, come apart at the seams, unravelled, completely surrendered to this beautiful, wild, unlimited power that threatens to destroy me from the inside out... an almost painful surge of heat throughout my feet and hands, a burning, a _refining_, with the energy and force of a thousand rushing waters... energy that is not contained by the limitations of my body, but is boundless and extravagant... When I can barely take it anymore, I am wrapped, gently, softly in warmth like a chrysalis and lowered to the ground...

Blinking, I open my eyes for the first time to pale light and breathe in a lungful of clear, crisp air, my cheek pressed to the cold, stone balcony. I raise myself slowly, giddily to my feet, feeling incredibly lighter, younger somehow... filled within by some mysterious light-filled presence.

As if in a dream, I look down at my hands, hardly daring to believe it as I see fingers, slightly oval fingernails, slender, long and tapered - no claws. I touch my face; smooth with a hint of stubble, straight nose, lips - no fangs. No scratches, no bruises, no blood... I turn, an amazing sense of clarity flowing within me.

_Can it be true...?_

As I turn, I see my Belle, the wonderful, amazing woman who made it all possible, standing there in numb silence, and I can tell by the stunned expression on her face that she does not recognise me.

"Belle... it's me..." I come towards her, laughter and emotion threatening to consume me and reach for her hands. I long to touch her, to hold her, to know that she isn't just a beautiful painting, that she is in fact real, alive and here with me. I can see her shock and her hesitation and I smile, longing to be near her, this incredible person who _saw_ me when no-one else did, who deemed me worthy of love and through her quiet beauty, breathed life into my soul. I clench my hands to my face, not wanting to break down in front of her but I can't stop the tears. I have been through so much, that to finally stand here before her as a man...is overwhelming... She's curious now and I can see the gentle concern in her eyes, even though I must seem a stranger to her.

She comes towards me slowly, reaching up a hand to stroke my hair. I close my eyes at her feather-light caress.

"Belle..." I touch a gentle finger to her cheek, a trembling smile on my face. I cannot speak further for fear of bursting, my heart is _that_ full. I never hoped, never dreamed that she'd come to love me in return... My mind thinks back for a moment to the terrible ballroom and the hall of portraits. I have never felt happier to be alive in my life...

Her mind is working frantically now, I can almost see her thoughts as they whirl in her eyes, her brow furrowed, willing herself to understand. Finally my stomach flutters as she looks up into my eyes and I see the recognition spread across her face.

"_It is you!"_

I smile. Actually, I am almost certain I am glowing, I feel so light-filled. Not withholding any longer I slowly reach to touch her face, stroke her hair and lean down to whisper _I love you_ many times against her lips and closed eye-lids. And I'm almost utterly oblivious to the transformation going on around me, the fireworks that dance across the sky in fiery arcs and star-bursts of colour and lift our hair, intermingling into the sky; all I'm aware of is _her_ warmth, her trembling nearness, her hands in my hair as we kiss, stop to breathe and then kiss again. And I marvel at this new profound lightness in my soul. I will not have the same fate as my parents; I will not die a monster... but whole and _human_, many years from now. I have changed. I have walked through fire and have been refined.


	6. Epilogue

**Refiner's Fire**

**Epilogue:**

_Author's Note: I originally wasn't going to have an epilogue, but I was interested in writing about Christophe and Belle's children, especially Noel. Thank you to all my readers and a special thank you to those who have been there from day one of this story's journey – you know who you are... Your consistent reviews and encouragement is what makes writing such an enjoyable process. This epilogue is for you =)_

o0o

Standing up from my desk, yawning, I stretch my back and wander over to the window, leaving behind piles of papers and matters of State. I pull back the faded, crimson curtain and watch smiling, as my youngest, Genevieve Lynette runs around in the powdery white snow, kicking up sprays of cold ice into her brother's faces. At eight years of age she is as beautiful as her mother but as stubborn and wilful as I was as a child. Like a little wild cat she launches herself at her brother Vincent and propels him backwards into the snow. Vincent is the quiet one, the dark one, the most sensitive out of the three with serious, brown eyes and amazing intuition. Although the 'black sheep' of the family he is very protective of his siblings and Genevieve _adores_ him. I watch as my eldest, Noel, already tall, with bright, copper hair moves quickly from where he's standing with his mother to assist his brother by swinging a shrieking Genevieve onto his shoulders.

Noel was born the day before Christmas, with eyes as clear and blue as a summer sky. Belle had been surprised and more than a little amused as I had stumbled wildly into the birthing room out of breath, entangled in strings of baubles and tinsel, insisting that the baby be called Noel... For my own sanity I wanted to maintain a spark of that beautiful dream child I had held and lost in the glass mirror... Although almost exactly like me in appearance he has Belle's gentle disposition. He is 'the peacemaker', a born-leader and yet a gentle child. It scares me sometimes because when I look at him, it is like I am looking at an image of myself those many years ago, but myself as I never was... honest, kind, truthful...

Slowly I move away from the heavy curtain and wander back to my desk, letting the gold plaited cord fall back into place. I sometimes wonder if he knows I held him before he was born... in a twilight world between life and death. I cannot carry him now like I did then, like I carry around Genevieve and sometimes even Vincent when he lets me... but I marvel at the change in me, that I, who was once starved of affection can now so freely give it to my children. Genevieve Lynette is my little princess and basks in whatever attention she can get while Vincent will begrudgingly accept a hug and not much else but will quietly and attentively sit by me in the study when he thinks no one's looking. Noel is naturally affectionate and will lean in to hug me as I press a kiss to his temple, as I watch over his comings and goings and his studies as he grows into a young and happy and adolescent. I make a point of telling them I love them every day, these incredible, starry individuals who I do not deserve and yet who love me without question.

My children.

So precious to me, so infinitely precious...

I look up from my desk, hearing approaching footsteps and see Belle standing against the doorframe, her cheeks rosy from the cold and slightly out of breath, having run up two flights of stairs to get to my study. "Why are you hiding up in here and not outside with us...?" she teases.

I watch her movements as she comes over to me, smiling. I sigh melodramatically and gesture to the pile of papers on my desk with an expression of injury. "It's more like I am confined to this den, while _you_ are all out there enjoying the fresh air and sunlight..."

She slips her arms around me and leans her cheek on my shoulder. "You looked so serious darling...what were you thinking of...? I doubt it was anything to do with the Duke of Yorkenshire or our next trip to England..." I close my eyes and lean back into her embrace.

"I was thinking about the children... and how lucky I am to have them, how lucky _we_ are..."

She presses a kiss to my shoulder and I pull her down and watch the pulse at her throat and her soft breathing which lifts the green bodice of her dress in gentle rhythms that captivate me. I cup the side of her face and say with quiet intensity "... but I am blessed beyond words to have you..." She kisses me then and I thread my fingers through her hair, loosening fragile bits of snow that haven't yet melted, relishing her nearness and her scent of cold, crushed ice and fresh pine. "Your hands are freezing, my love," I complain against her parted lips and she laughs, deliberately placing her hands on the bare skin at my collarbone, kissing me again. I shiver happily and kiss her back, matching her passion for passion.

I am _truly_ blessed to have her, for she is my best friend and confidant, my help-mate, lover, wife and the mother of our children. She is all these things and more. We are not perfect, and there are days when we have to work very hard to keep our relationship alive. But we work well together, Belle and I and our children. We are a family. Sometimes I think back to my near-death experience and remember seeing my parents again. I am just so thankful to have had been changed enough to raise my children well. I was determined I would not renew the cycle of abuse and hatred with my own family and yet I no longer feel bitterness or resentment towards my parents, only a sadness that I did not have the opportunity to know them more. And I realise, that the person I have to thank the most for that is the Enchantress...

It came to me as a shocking discovery... but I realise that it is true. If she had not intervened in my life when she had, I would not be the person I am now... I would not now be married to Belle, or have three wonderful children... I would be stuck in the same pattern of hatred and abuse, following the lives and mistakes of my parents... But I have been given a second chance at life... I have been refined in a very real and frightening way and what is remarkable is that I have lived to tell the tale. I realise now that the makings of a man is not in his material possessions or his strength or his fortune but in the goodness of his heart. My riches are my family and they surround me every day...

"Well...?" Belle raises one arched eyebrow. "Are you coming or not...?"

"I think you just changed my mind," I sigh, looking up at her in amusement. And shoving the papers aside I chase her shrieking out of the castle. We hold hands and catch our breath together in the stone archway, before shielding our eyes and stepping out into the blinding white snow, watching as our children race towards us.

_This_ is life.

For now at last, I have truly begun living.


End file.
